


Durable

by Yobotica



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mention of Clay/Desmond, Mentions of Clay and Jacob, Rebecca/Lucy background
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 14:57:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17061911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yobotica/pseuds/Yobotica
Summary: Written for the fourth day prompt of the Assassin's Creed Fandom Events 2018 event.Prompt: Period SwapShaun and Desmond meet in London, in 1868.





	Durable

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd again by the wonderful [Caisar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caisar). Thank you so much for your hard work making my work better!

Shaun was concentrating on the ledger in front of him. He only had a scant couple of hours with which to help out today, and it was important he get through what he could as quickly as possible. Rebecca was sitting across from him in the enclosed booth of the emptiest train car they could find, working on some device or other, occasionally muttering under her breath. 

No doubt some blistering curse aimed at whatever idiot had broken... _whatever_ it was. Such things weren't really his purview, and he had other work to concentrate on. 

It wasn't that the work wasn't especially engaging, however important it was. The Brotherhood, such as it was, had a lack of, well, better-educated and well-connected men. Shaun not only didn't mind using his talents and connections for the Brotherhood, but he also found it enormously exciting. He held out hope that he might one day be trained to fight as they did, though he knew it was unlikely he'd ever wield one of the coveted hidden blades. 

Rebecca nudged his elbow, and he grunted, because he'd stopped transcribing to moon over his future. Again. 

He truly was grateful for Rebecca; she was a stalwart friend, and a good person, to boot. She'd saved him from a Templar plot after he'd been too focal a critic of some of their more prominent members in society, and they'd decided it was much easier to kill him than conscript him. 

He liked to think he'd never have worked for the likes of them, but knows in his deepest heart that were his own life on the line, he might have cooperated. 

He didn't pause to offer thanks, however - that was the beauty of their friendship, as Rebecca would already know in the way he bent his head to resume working. He'd never have imagined this, friends and family so diverse, a family so rough and strong welcoming him with open arms. 

Which is why he was transcribing recommended investment opportunities to advance the Brotherhood's agenda, and hopefully line their coffers as well. Boring, but very necessary. 

He was interrupted some long moments later by the sound of a foreign accent reaching his ears. He lifted his head to peer around, and there, in the car ahead, was a young man wearing a knit seaman's cap. His face was actually rather handsome, what Shaun could see of it, with a scar marring the generous lips of a fine mouth, stretched wide around a genuine laugh. 

He forced his gaze away, lest it linger overlong. Rebecca grinned at him. 

"A Yankee?" he asked, since that was why he'd looked up in the first place. 

Rebecca nodded. "From what I've been told, a runaway, no less, son of one of the foremost of American Assassin's." 

Shaun frowned at that, and Rebecca laughed softly. "None of that, now; he was upset at his father's lack of action. Said the Assassins there mostly gathered information but never did aught with it. It didn't sit well with him, so he ran. Ended up here, saw the good work we're doing, and found us all on his own. Met with Jacob, he did, and impressed him enough to be signed on," she said. "He's quite handsome, isn't he?" she whispered. "They come along quite nicely over there back in America, didn't I say?" She winked at him, but Shaun lowered his eyes to his work, picked up the pen and set about working again, so he could avoid giving anything away. 

"Let's hope he doesn't make any trouble for us - he does stand out." It was a mild enough comment, but she swatted at his arm for the sentiment. 

He looked up at her with a wry grin to take the sting from his words, and ended up glancing over. The man was looking at him, an expression of surprise on his face that smoothed out into a friendly grin. 

Shaun averted his eyes again, knew he was frowning harder than he should have been, but helpless to prevent it. Better than the alternative, though. He trusted his friends here, but not everyone was a friend, not everyone would understand. He didn't want to lose this, and there was not a face on this earth - no matter how pretty - that was worth risking that.

========

Desmond very quickly became a _problem_. After first noticing him, Shaun started noticing him far too much. All the time, in fact.

He'd also made fast friends with Rebecca, apparently, because of course she'd befriend the only other American in their local Brotherhood. Desmond often joined them when Rebecca was working on things while Shaun was helping out. And he was always trying to talk to Shaun. 

Well, this wouldn't do, obviously, so Shaun made sure he wasn't too friendly. In fact, he was terribly short with Desmond. It was better this way, he was sure, given how much of a distraction Desmond was, and given that Shaun found it ever so hard to ignore him, even when he wasn't sitting with them. 

Quite the opposite of his expectations, Rebecca said not a word about his abominable behavior. She'd give him a smug smile instead, then change the subject before he could either reprimand her or demand answers. 

The times Desmond wasn't present were usually because he was out on a mission. He took many, Shaun heard (from Rebecca), and, he'd been told, was very, very good ( _not_ from Rebecca, though she had agreed, then suggested Shaun should make the time to visit while Desmond was training, which of course Shaun promptly ignored). (He already devoted far too much thought to Desmond, he didn't need such a sight distracting him further.) 

On one such quiet afternoon, Rebecca finally commented on the subject Shaun knew she'd been dancing about for weeks, so he set his pen down, and looked at her squarely. 

"I honestly thought you'd get along better with Desmond," she said, not as casually as the statement should have required. "I thought you'd like him."

"I don't," Shaun said quickly, far too quickly, shaking his head just once. "I don't."

Rebecca smiled. "Truly? I honestly thought you'd become the most _intimate_ of friends," she murmured, and Shaun felt himself swallow before he could stop it, felt his face lose what little colour it ever had. Rebecca smiled and reached out to pat his hand. "Like Lucy and I," she added, and Shaun's brows raised, as high as they could go. 

"M-miss Stillman?" he asked, because she was a Lady of impeccable breeding, known a bit for her unladylike interests, but a sought-after match by many. 

Rebecca's grin grew both softer, and more smug. "Indeed," she said. "Like calls to like, as they say, and we're quite close. On the occasions she stays the night with the Brotherhood, why, we've even shared a bed." 

On its face it was, an innocent statement, but Shaun knew immediately what she meant. Her slightly leering expression ensured there was no doubt of that. The Assassins didn't have private rooms, generally, which meant they shared a bed in one of the common ones, and... Surely they hadn't... 

Rebecca laughed, and he knew his face betrayed his thoughts far too much. "Oh, Shaun, it's not so unheard of, really. You'd see if you let yourself look. Discretion is still required, but among the Brotherhood... We're family, you know? We want freedom, for people of all kinds, you know this." 

Shaun swallowed again. "I didn't... Rebecca, I..." He couldn't even bring himself to say it aloud. It wasn't unknown, of course it wasn't, but it was so improper, and he was a man of standing, with expectations! 

She smiled at him, far more kindly than he'd ever seen from her, and patted his hand gently. "Well, I was only saying. Perhaps take a closer look at Desmond when he's looking at you; you might see a kindred spirit, as it were." 

"I'll... I'll think on your words," he promised, because he knew he'd be incapable of doing anything but. 

He picked up his pen again, and set to work, but his mind was instead on an easy, friendly grin, and eyes that had only ever looked at him with warmth, no matter how sharp Shaun's tongue.

========

Desmond kissed like he fought; aggressively and knowledgeably. Shaun had been absolutely helpless to do anything but respond, despite the fact they were in one of his family's homes. Behind closed doors, at least, but for a few brief moments, he'd been unaware, uncaring.

Desmond had him against the wall, held there by the press of his body, his hands on Shaun's shoulders. This wasn't Shaun's first kiss by any means; there had been chaste kisses with women most recently, but when he been younger, there had been the teenage fumblings of boys that no one spoke of ever again. 

This kiss was not like any of those. It was... it was sexual, urgent. 

But even Desmond couldn't hold the world off forever, and Shaun pushed him away the moment he realised who could walk in at nearly any moment.

"Desmond!" he hissed, then wiped his mouth, patted down his hair. Desmond smirked at him as he watched.

"Yes?" he asked, but didn't step away. His lips were curled in a smirk, and Shaun was a bit grateful for the wall against his back - his knees seemed to be having trouble keeping him upright.

Shaun licked his lips, and nearly smirked himself when Desmond's eyes followed the motion. "We, we can't," he said instead, kept his voice quiet. There was a giddiness rising up in him, one that required all of his discipline to suppress. "Not here."

Desmond frowned though, pressed in close once more, trapping Shaun against the wall again. "And why not? No one can see us here."

"You don't know who might walk in at any time," Shaun said as calmly as he could, but he was still breathless, and his whole being ached with the desire to have Desmond's mouth on his again.

Desmond looked at him a moment, then nodded. He pulled himself away, stood a proper distance while Shaun straightened his clothing. "Have I misread? You... You do want me, don't you?"

Shaun cleared his throat, directed the most withering glare he could muster at Desmond. "If you have to ask, I despair of your observational skills," he said, but Desmond only looked delighted at him instead of any manner of cowed.

"Then I'll see you tonight," Desmond said, and opened the door he'd shut after Shaun had let them in, to show Desmond the guest room he'd be staying in. Before he'd pressed Shaun to the wall and changed everything.

Shaun made a protesting noise, and Desmond only smirked at him. "I'm the best," he said, and Shaun knew what he'd meant. Desmond wasn't using the halls or the door; if he didn't want to be seen he wouldn't be.

Shaun shivered slightly at the promise. He couldn't wait.

========

Shaun was, well happy. Despite the constant fear of discovery, and the occasional sense of shame, he was happier than he'd ever been.

Things with the Assassins were going great; he'd started training when he could, and his own initiatives were starting to bear fruit. There was actually money flowing into their coffers. Not enough, but it was an excellent start.

And things with Desmond, well... That was the the part filled with the peaks and valleys that often eclipsed all else. He knew it was love, despite never having been in love before, yet there were times Desmond was the source of such frustration as he ever known. But Desmond was also like a balm, an adventure; thrilling and addicting in equal measure.

He was smart, for one, smarter than many of Shaun's 'friends', despite the lack of formal education. He was skilled, respected, and much more experienced in being in love, in being a lover, than Shaun was.

They had disagreements, though, and often. Desmond hated how Shaun would allow nothing that even hinted of impropriety outside of closed doors and drawn curtains. Even among the Assassins, among their friends. He never once pushed the line when they were with their friends, which only meant they had these disagreements in the very short time they could steal behind those closed doors. 

Though there were other small disagreements, that was the one that stole most of the time Shaun allowed for their affections. Shaun knew it was a lot to ask, but he was the one with the most to lose, some of which would also affect the Assassins. 

Shaun knew the latter fact had no bearing in Desmond's decision to respect his boundaries outside their stolen nights, but it was a fact he kept in mind. Sometimes his own resolve faltered, as he was only human, and keeping greater goals in mind helped him through those weakest moments. 

It wasn't always great, in truth, but Shaun knew this was the very best he'd ever get in this world. That, for a long as it lasted, these would ever be his happiest days. 

He could only hope they would last longer than he deserved.

========

"You cannot be serious," Desmond said, looking as wrecked as Shaun felt. Shaun, however, had come to this decision (the inevitable conclusion) days ago, and had had time to acclimate, had already lived with the misery of it for the last half week. He'd known from the beginning that this end was inevitable, and though they'd never talked about it, he'd thought Desmond knew the same.

Judging from the expression Desmond wore, however, he had not.

Shaun took a deep breath, and steeled himself further, resolve coiling tighter around his lungs until it was a shock he even had breath to speak. "I am," he said softly. "The match is a good one, for my family and the Brotherhood, even," he said. "I cannot... This is the right thing to do, but I won't ask you to accommodate this."

" _Accommodate?_ Shaun, you're taking about marriage! To some heiress you don't actually have to marry!" 

Shaun wasn't completely surprised at the outburst, but preparedness did not mean immunity. "Of course I do," he said. "I cannot abandon my family, and this benefits me least of all. I thought I, we had more time, but my parents are insistent, and they are right. She's a desirable match, and has agreed to the suit."

"How long have you known?" Desmond's voice held nothing but venom. 

"I was told two days ago," he said, but Desmond had still been on a ship, returning from another successful mission. "This is the earliest I was able to see you."

Desmond asked a harsh laugh. "I meant," he said slowly, "how long have you known that you were going to marry, if your family demanded it?"

" _If_ they demanded it? Desmond, this was... Of course this was going to happen, I'm the only child of a prominent society family; _of course_ I'd have to marry someone my parents approved. Given my nature, an arrangement was likely, it just happened sooner than I expected."

"Sooner than you expected? Why did you ever have me at all if you were only going to abandon me the moment it was convenient for your family? There are many who call you cold-hearted but I hadn't believed them. Clearly, I was wrong."

Shaun felt his heart wrench in his chest. He hadn't thought Desmond would be overjoyed at the news, but... "I thought you knew, Desmond, we talked about it."

"No," Desmond spat, "You talked around it. I was serious about this, about us. And you never were, not really." He turned away, and everything in Shaun ached to go to him, to tell him all of the seething emotions locked behind his teeth, but that would only prove him as selfish as Desmond thought he was. So he said nothing as Desmond laid his hand on the knob.

Desmond hesitated there. "Goodbye, Shaun," he said, without turning, and then slipped out the door. He shut it quietly behind him, leaving Shaun alone.

========

Shaun had ever expected his life to take a certain course. Given his station, a suitable marriage to a woman of proper stature, and the accumulation of wealth and business, and perhaps even some political influence, if it could be arranged. This was the course his life was to take, and he'd never had cause to question it - until recently.

Letting Desmond leave as he had done weighed heavily upon him. He was entering a courtship with a lovely young woman, the most perfect match his parents could hope for; one he'd even hoped for, once upon a time.

He'd known since he was a young man that he was not like his peers, like his parents; his attraction to other boys, to men, marked him as different. Different was dangerous, he knew this from an early age, and accepted that; he'd never had the option to live as he truly wished anyway, and what was one more thing to hide for appearances' sake?

But he hadn't known, not truly. He'd not yet met Desmond, a man who stirred his heart and mind as much as he roused his body. Desmond, who was kind, and funny, and clever, who was generous with everything he had. Desmond, who kissed him like Shaun slaked the greatest thirst he'd ever known, who touched him like Shaun was an object worthy of worship. 

Desmond, who was gone. Who Shaun had forced away.

It had been the right thing to do, of course. The Harris family had connections, and Adelaide herself was possessed of a unique insight into business and politics that many men would disregard, but not Shaun. And she, too, was generous, and kind, and loudly proclaimed for the rights of those who had few, or none. 

She was everything a younger Shaun had hoped for in a match, and yet... She was nearly as trapped as he, perhaps even more more so, and he couldn't quite quell the resentment in his heart for everything she represented though it was no fault of her own.

He carefully followed all the steps of courtship that were expected; chaperoned meetings, supervised walks, even talks over tea with her and her mother. He acted with every ounce of decorum required, but every time her mother smiled approvingly, or her brother nodded and injected a helpful comment in ways they could utilise their partnership, he felt the weight on his shoulders increase a little more. 

He was almost desperate to be the perfect partner; this _had_ to work, he had to secure this marriage, because he knew - and likely she did as well, though she never acknowledge it - that this was likely his only chance. His family was wealthy, but it was not an old family, and he himself was not sociable, or charming. Being intelligent and hard-working were fine aspects when it came to heading up the family business, but did not delight eligible young women who cared much for trifles and little for conversation.

Adelaide was an exception, and she well knew it. When her mother chaperoned them, she spoke as any demure, well-bred woman spoke, but on their outings with her brother, she spoke frankly and intelligently and Shaun genuinely liked her. She was the perfect match on more than just paper. 

And yet, for all that he'd meant to spend his whole life working for the family name, to not tarnish the fledgling legacy his father and his grandfather had built, he hated it. The weight of it had never before felt so heavy; never had he doubted that he could carry it.

He more than doubted now. Miss Adelaide Harris was his biggest chance to accomplish everything he'd expected to in life, everything his father expected, and he couldn't carry the weight of it anymore. He was doing his best, but he watched her as she watched him; saw that she was assessing him, and found him wanting. 

She wasn't wrong to, of course. He was wanting. But he wasn't allowed to have what he wanted, not by his family, not by society, so maybe, just _maybe_ , he could at least have this instead, so long as he didn't mess it up somehow. 

He just had to show her he would be a good partner, a good husband - and when the time came, a good father. 

He had a feeling that those things weren't enough for a woman like Adelaide, but he'd at least be as honest as he could be that these were all he could offer. It may be cold to think, but while her family was indulgent, she had nearly as few options as he as outspoken as she was, and he truly thought that they could still at least build a life of contentment between them, even if he could hardly see it from where he was. Even if he didn't truly deserve it. 

It was, he knew now, the best he'd ever have the chance to get.

========

"You're a good man Shaun, but I can't be the cause of your misery. That's too much to ask," Adelaide said softly to him. _Kindly._

"It wouldn't always be misery," he protested, but she laughed, still soft, still gentle.

"We rarely live our lives for ourselves, Shaun. I know I am unlikely to find a match for love, but they are many ways to love, and love can grow over time. You clearly have another in your heart, even though you accepted this match. I'm not starting a garden in salted ground, though I could eventually reclaim it. I don't deserve that, and neither do you. Go to her, even if she is not the ideal match. In the end, only you will live your life. You should do what you can to make it the best it can be, in the circumstances we're given. "

Shaun managed a smile. She was right about the important things. "You wouldn't be alone in tending that garden," he tried, but he doubted he'd sway her. "Besides, that avenue is gone; I can't... I can't have her," he said, as honest as he could be. 

"And I can't have you. Not truly, not fairly. Shaun, I apologise, but I wanted a match with a man of solid reputation, with the same philanthropic interests as I have. A partnership that might grow into love. We can still be partners in other ways, I should think, but my family will withdraw the suit. I won't speak ill of you; this is hardly your doing."

Shaun nodded. "Of course," he agreed, even though she was wrong. This was only entirely his doing. "I wish you the best of luck. You deserve a truly splendid garden. "

She left after a chaste kiss to his cheek, and while she may behave honorably about this, the rest of the world likely wouldn't be so kind. 

He wanted to wallow; he'd lost Desmond over a marriage that would never happen. It would be hard to argue that he didn't deserve it. 

But, he'd take the days as they came, and if Desmond heard the news once he returned form the mission abroad he'd taken immediately after talking with Shaun, maybe he'd come see him. 

Shaun couldn't make the first move, however; at this point, he no longer had the right.

========

Desmond didn't return from that first mission abroad. Or the next. Or the one after that.

Shaun realised Desmond truly meant to stay away from London, from England. From _him._

If asked to speak honestly, he'd say that he wasn't completely surprised; Desmond had been truly hurt, and Shaun knew it was solely his fault. It wasn't surprising at all that Desmond should choose to leave for a time, though Shaun would admit he'd never expected Desmond to stay away. 

He'd made many friends here, and the Brotherhood wasn't so small they were guaranteed to run into each other again, after all. But he'd also made a name for himself, and skilled agents willing to travel weren't exactly in healthy supply. So perhaps it shouldn't have been so shocking. 

Adelaide announced that she would not be marrying Shaun after all, and while she'd never spoken a bad word about him, the collapse of a union between two wealthy, well-connected families meant that Shaun's reputation was tarnished beyond repair when he never offered any comment on the matter. 

His parents were furious, of course, but Adelaide was only willing to do so much for the sake of family, and wouldn't be swayed by their pleas or offers. They didn't disown him, though they'd made their displeasure quite apparent. 

No other offers came forward, and while Shaun never made any himself, his parents never informed him of any potential matches again, whether they'd made offers or not. He didn't know, mostly because he truly didn' t care. He'd do what they asked, if they asked, but they never did. 

Shaun followed up on Desmond's travels, though. He never tried to contact him, not even to send missions he knew Desmond would be interested. He just made sure he was kept abreast of Desmond's life, really, in the barest of details. 

Desmond wasn't always alone, which made Shaun feel a bitter sort of envy; but in a way, it also made him feel better. He himself had allowed intimate company now and again, but he refrained from any emotional entanglements. There had been one or two he'd thought he might give a try, but in the end, he'd never pursued, for any reason which felt right at the time. 

There wasn't enough passion, or enough affection, or the match wasn't truly advantageous, or they'd be apart more than they'd be together, or... There was always a reason. He was, if not content, accepting of his situation, since it had been one entirely of his own making. 

But when his reports on Desmond frequently included the same name again and again, well. He had no choice but to truly accept that Desmond intended to stay far away from London and Shaun and everything they had. This Clay, a handsome American by all accounts, seemed to make Desmond happy, so he left it. He never asked for further details, and after he realised that the two had been together for over a year, he requested even less information - namely, whether he was still alive.

Perhaps it was a habit by now, to hear once or twice a month about Desmond and how well he was doing. 

Shaun never asked Rebecca about Desmond (and aside from one scathing, one-sided conversation she conducted mostly in a yell, they'd never talked about the subject again. Shaun had no idea if they kept in touch, and wouldn't ever ask. He hoped so, if only because they'd been great friends, and Shaun would have hated if he had been the cause of each losing a great friend in the other. 

He took over more and more of his family's holdings and finances as his parents chose to retire in their 'advanced age', and as long as he made sure they were comfortable and carried all the appearances of wealth and status, his father never inquired into their holdings. By all rights, Shaun was quiet and hard-working, and their fortunes steadily grew. 

He invested much of himself and his personal finances in the Brotherhood. He trained with Rebecca and the agents, but mostly so he could ever defend himself - he was not particularly of note in society, but the financial web he'd put in place for the Assassins had him very near the centre, with many threads leading directly to him. He'd never underestimate their opponents - after all, how many times had the Assassins used this very method to remove the entrenched web of Starrick Crawford and his cronies? Shaun knew he was but a single cog in the machine of the forces working in the dark to control the fates of men, but he certainly wasn't going to make it easy for anyone to take him out. 

The best he could do would be to remain fit, to ensure others knew what he knew, and that were he taken out, another could replace him and keep things running smoothly for the Brotherhood. He had a, well, he supposed he'd call them an apprentice, or two, was toying with the idea of adoption, if only to have someone publicly carry on his family's finances (and privately carry on the Brotherhood's), but it wasn't quite time, not yet. 

His life wasn't at all what he thought it would be, but it wasn't without meaning or worth, and he wasn't unhappy. He was fine.

========

Rebecca had been the one to tell him. She'd looked hesitant, like she was bearing news of a death, when she entered the office at his London home.

"Rebecca," he said, standing to give her a hug. She was still his closest friend, and her own demeanor made him worry that something may have happened to a mutual friend. "What's wrong?" 

She hugged back, but pushed him away quickly. "Shaun, I just wanted you to know, before you heard it from anyone else, but Desmond's back. In London, I mean." 

Shaun blinked at her, cocked his head. Then took a breath. _Desmond._ Here in London? Then he smiled and shook his head. He supposed he could work from his home in the country instead of his London office, communicate by letter for a week or two, depending on how long Desmond was staying. 

He glanced at her face, surprised at how worried she still looked. "What's the problem?" he asked. 

"Are you... Are you alright? He's in London, right now. He's meeting with Jacob."

Shaun nodded. "Of course I'm alright," he said. "I won't need to speak with Jacob for at least a fortnight, so there shouldn't be any trouble."

Rebecca narrowed her eyes at him. "No, I meant... It's Desmond!"

"Yes, you've said."

"Here. In London. Don't you want to see him?"

Shaun laughed softly. "Not at all, is that why you were worried? You thought I'd bother him while he's here?"

" _Bother?_ Shaun, you... You've become a recluse because of... everything that happened," she said, graciously avoiding mention of any blame.

Shaun laughed again. "I have not," he said. "I simply don't socialise; there's a difference. I'm quite active, and you know it. I truly wish Desmond all the best, but it's been over a decade; whatever happened is long in the past."

Rebecca frowned even harder at him and he raised his brows at her. "Alright, let me speak more plainly; you should go see Desmond while he is here."

Shaun sighed. "I appreciate your concern. But, let me remind you, he was the one to cut all communication. This was a decision he made. Whatever my feelings, this couldn't be more clear. Let it alone, Rebecca."

She made a noise that was half growl, half sigh. "Fine! I'm seeing him!"

Shaun laughed softly. "As you should. He is your friend, and I'm sure he'd love to see you."

She gave him a hug, and left, likely directly to see Desmond, if she could. He truly didn't begrudge their friendship, but he was more ill at ease than he'd proclaimed. He didn't have to go to his home outside the city; he knew that was the result of cowardice alone, to lose all chances of happening upon Desmond even by accident.

It was for the best, though, really.

========

Shaun was in the middle of penning another letter to an associate when a servant let him know he had a visitor. Odd for anyone to make the trip, since he was quite available when he was in town, though he supposed this was outside of his regular schedule.

And, of course, sometimes he had important messages or updates from his other "Business associates". 

Since that's what he was calling the Brotherhood these days. 

"Send them in," he said, thankful for the extra screening he'd taken to ensure a discreet, competent staff, even out here. 

He resumed writing, since anyone who would enter would either politely let him know they'd arrived, or they'd probably drop documents or other evidence on his desk and then leave. 

What he got instead, was a disbelieving voice from someone he hadn't ever expected to see - or even hear from - ever again. 

"You _were_ hiding out," Desmond's voice said, and Shaun looked up so suddenly that his pen scrawled an untidy line across a quarter of the page. 

He'd have to start over, but the thought was relegated to a distant part of his mind, because the rest of it was focused on "Desmond, " he said, voice weak, though he was pleased it didn't shake. 

It _was_ Desmond, nearly ten years older, and somehow even more handsome than Shaun's memories relayed. He was tanned, no doubt from years of living abroad, usually in the southern climes. His hair was longer, with more curl than Shaun had expected had hidden in the close-cropped locks Desmond had kept the last time he'd seen the man. There were lines around his eyes and mouth, lines that spoke of a life lived, and the smiles that had come with it. Shaun knew the source of those smiles, though, and swallowed, though he couldn't look away. 

"It's true," Desmond said, but it wasn't quite a response to Shaun's exhalation. "You didn't even get married." The words were soft, almost as disbelieving as Shaun's had been, but held far more accusation. 

There was silence for a few moments before Shaun cleared his throat, straightened up and put his pen down. "I didn't," he agreed, because someone had to say something, and that was all his startled brain could come up with.

Desmond stared at him a long moment. "Then why?" he asked. "All this time, and... You never even... Why didn't you tell me?" 

Shaun sighed. The very fact that Desmond had questions, that this felt unfinished to him, as well... But it was pointless now, wasn't it? "At this point, it hardly matters, doesn't it? What's done is done, and you've, I mean, we have both moved on." 

He could see that not only did his answer not calm Desmond, it only increased his anger. "You knew," he said, and Shaun only nodded. "So you had me followed then? Knew what I was doing, who I was with?"

Shaun had to look away, knew his guilt was writ across his face, but unable to do a single thing about it. He was so tired suddenly, and knew while it came from many sources, the instant Desmond left, he'd want to sleep for a hundred years.

"You weren't followed, I just asked for updates now and again," Shaun admitted. "I wanted to know you were alright. That you might be happy. I'm... I stopped a few years back," he said, fighting to keep his voice even. He knew he was failing, but Desmond deserved the truth. "I'm glad for you, truly, that you found someone to give you what you deserved." The words were true, and for all they were freely offered, he felt they'd scraped him raw on the way out. 

Desmond deflated a little, but the anger didn't leave him fully. "And your fiancé?" 

Shaun sighed again. "She called it off. In the end, she had more integrity than I did; I never deserved her, and she deserved better," he said, still not looking at Desmond.

"Why not marry anyone else, then?" 

Shaun laughed. "Offers weren't exactly pouring in before hers, and they all but stopped after. She never said an unkind word about me, but I'm not sure that helped. Eventually, well, it was best to focus on my duties." This was an easier topic, one that came up regularly anyway, a true answer he'd grown comfortable with. 

"Fine, no marriage, but why no partner? I've asked questions of my own, you know."

Shaun smiled at that. He couldn't keep the wistfulness from his voice when he spoke, but there was no longer any bitterness. "Simply put, there's no one living in London that I love. I've learned that without love, without someone who wants the same things, it doesn't work for anything longer than a night. And if that's all one has to offer..." he shrugged,certain Desmond would understand he's been no monk, pining away for the pleasures of the flesh. 

Desmond's expression turned thoughtful for a minute. "And me?" he asked. "I don't live in London."

Shaun smiled. "Well, yes, but it's been many years. We are not the same people as we were."

Desmond wasn't so easily deflected, though, and crossed his arms over his chest. "That could mean as little or as much as you need it to. Have your feelings changed these long years, or not?" 

Shaun looked at him fully then, then shook his head. "I'm finding now that they have not," he said softly. Damn the man! "Did this answer please you? What are you going to do with it?" 

Desmond looked away then, shaking his head. "No I... I don't know," he said. He no longer looked angry, but defeated, and that was almost worse. Shaun regretted his cruelty, brief though it had been. Desmond straightened, then nodded once, decisively. "I just wanted to know, I suppose. And I have my answer. I..." he began, more indecisive than Shaun had ever seen, "I should go. Thank you for... Seeing me, answering my questions. Take care of yourself, Shaun." 

Then he turned and strode towards the door. Shaun wanted to stop him, could feel the opportunity slip further from his grasp with every step Desmond took. And maybe Desmond wanted him to call out, but Shaun couldn't know that, couldn't trust any decision his emotions wanted where Desmond was concerned. 

Desmond knew where to find him, if he ever wanted anything more than answers. He let Desmond leave, and after a moment, picked his pen up again. No better distraction than work, after all. 

Even if it wasn't actually true, the pretence had carried him along for many years, and had longevity yet.

========

Shaun had thought he'd never see Desmond again, but it was scarce a week before he called on Shaun at his office in the city. Since he'd failed at avoiding Desmond, they was no further reason to stay at his country office, especially when it was easier to conduct his business here instead.

"Desmond!" Shaun said, almost impolitely surprised. 

Desmond offered a small smile, sheepish perhaps. "Good afternoon," he replied. "Do you have time for a short, private meeting?" 

Shaun almost said no; their last meeting had left him heartsore and tired, and dwelling overmuch on the past. But Desmond was here again, and how much more could Shaun possibly be hurt by a short meeting? 

He nodded, gestured to his staff that he was not to be interrupted, and led Desmond to his office, much less tidy than the rarely used office in his estate. 

Desmond shut the door behind him and for an awkward moment, the two men stared at each other in silence. Whatever brought Desmond here, he seemed to be at a loss for words. 

Shaun offered a polite smile, but not a seat. "What... can I do for you, Desmond?" he asked, diverting at the last second from a more personal question that might have sounded accusatory. For all he knew, this could be business; they were both Assassins, after all. Shaun could do his job without letting his emotions get the better of him. 

Desmond smiled again, shook his head. "This is actually a personal visit," he said. "I feel badly about how I left." 

Shaun shook his head in return. "No apologies are needed. Given the history between us, it's fine. Understandable, even. If you worried about my assistance in the future -" 

"I'm moving back to London," Desmond blurted out, and Shaun couldn't help but laugh a little. 

"Alright. As I was saying, you needn't be worried about my assistance in the future; I shall treat you as any other Assassin," he promised. 

"What if I don't want you to?" Desmond asked, and for a moment, Shaun felt stupid for thinking there were not more ways for Desmond to hurt him. Did he truly mean to ask Shaun to stay out of London? 

But a look at Desmond's face, the hesitant hope in his eyes, and the small smile playing about his lips, and Shaun realised that was not the case at all. 

"I don't understand," he said, because he wasn't sure he did,and this time - if this even was a 'this time' - he wouldn't leave things unsaid and misunderstood. 

Desmond took a deep breath. "What if, what if you loved someone who lived in London, and they loved you back?" 

Shaun's heart paused, then started racing. "I- I suppose it depends on the person. And whether they'd give another chance to the man who treated them abominably the last time they allowed themselves to love each other," he replied, and Desmond's hesitant smile became a happy grin he thought he'd only see in his memories. 

"He will," Desmond said. " _I_ will. We'll do things better this time. I want you, Shaun, and as far as the world knows, we might only be dear friends, or associates, or whatever narrative works best, but in our homes, and with our friends, we are lovers and partners. There are no others, no marriage, even as a cover."

Shaun smiled back at him, felt the threat of tears prick at his eyes. "That's... What I've always wanted," he said, and though he knew his words were soft, they were no less true. He hadn't thought it possible then, but he'd learned much since then, and Adelaide had been correct, moreso than either of them had realized at the time. "Partners and lovers in truth, to all of those that matter."

Desmond laughed then, a joyous, free sound that made Shaun himself feel lighter. "Though, while you may be desk bound, I'm still an agent. I'll travel, there may be months we may not see each other," he said, voice as serious as Shaun had ever heard. "Can we still make this work?" 

Shaun nodded once. "Yes, of course. No others, like you said," and his fear that Desmond might take his words badly was unfounded, as Desmond nodded seriously at that point, "Write me, if you can, and return to me. That's all I would ever ask. If you can offer that, then I think we can make this work." 

Desmond stepped forward, left hand outstretched, and Shaun put his right hand against it, and Desmond shifted his hand to his fingers between Shaun's. 

"It sounds like we have an arrangement," Desmond murmured, stepping closer still. "Shaun, if you don't allow me to kiss you now, I may die," he added. 

Shaun laughed and pressed his lips to that mischievous smile. "Well, we can't have that," he said softly, his own smile making it difficult to do more than trade brief, sweet kisses between them.

There was much and more to discuss, but that would come later. Talking would come later. 

Shaun pulled away from Desmond long enough to lock the door to his office - his staff would know better than to interrupt, even if this 'meeting' did run a little longer than intended.

**Author's Note:**

> I originally expected this to be much shorter - but there was so much story to get written, and welp. Figured snapshots of their lives would be the best, especially given the deadline. 
> 
> And after their making up makeout, they totally talk about Clay and what his relationship with Desmond was really like. As for where he's at now, and Clay fell in love with a place and then another person and is living his best life ever!


End file.
